


Diverging Paths

by QuoteMyFoot



Series: Word Prompts for Three Houses [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, But not in a happy way, Friends to Enemies, Gen, War, can also be read as Catherine/Shamir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 20:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuoteMyFoot/pseuds/QuoteMyFoot
Summary: Shamir prided herself on her professionalism, but she's never had to face a friend on the battlefield before.Minor spoilers for Crimson Flower.
Relationships: Catherine & Shamir Nevrand, Petra Macneary & Shamir Nevrand
Series: Word Prompts for Three Houses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535843
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	Diverging Paths

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the November daily prompts over at r/FanFiction. **November 2 (Saturday Zounds!): Thunk.**
> 
> Set after Petra & Bernadetta's paralogue.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

The arrows thudded into the centre of the target with a satisfying sound. Shamir’s hand was steady, as usual.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

Shamir reached for another arrow only to find her quiver empty. She frowned. _Did I lose count again? I was sure I had more left…_

She shrugged and went to gather the arrows out of the target. It was unlike her to be so careless, but the hour was late. Tomorrow, she’d be back to normal. She just had to work off this nervous energy, and she’d be prepared for the next mission.

Dumping the arrows into the quiver, Shamir stalked back to her marker.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

Three arrows in rapid succession, all clustered tightly around a small area. Not exactly Shamir’s signature move, but it was a reliable way to make sure people were dead.

_Thunk. Thunk—_

“Ah, I thought this is where I may be finding you!”

Surprised by the interruption, Shamir’s third shot went way off target—a whole hand’s width away from where she’d intended to land it. _Tch._

Petra stepped out of the shadows, peering at the target. “Oh, I did not know you were practising. I am sorry to have disturbed you.”

“It’s fine.” Shamir hated that look of concern, and didn’t want to explain herself further. As far as Petra was concerned, yes, she was practising. She notched another arrow to her bow. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”

“Yes,” Petra agreed. “I sense you are having many distractions.”

Shamir sighed. “I don’t have time to beat around the bush like this. Say your piece.”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she walked up to Shamir and open her hands. “May I take a shot?”

Shamir raised her eyebrows. Five years of seeing Brigid’s princess around the Officer’s Academy, where she held no special regard at all, had made her forget that Petra was royalty. Not just anyone would ignore her so boldly—she’d shed many of the negatives of her Dagda origins since joining the Knights of Seiros, and then the Emperor’s army, but not their reputation for being wrathful when roused.

She handed over the bow and an arrow.

Even if Shamir didn’t already know, it would be obvious that Petra was a skilled hunter. She didn’t hesitate—as soon as she acquired the target, she drew and fired. It struck dead in the centre, as expected of Petra. Hunters had to make clean, precise shots.

“You tend to be firing your arrows in groups,” Petra said, handing the weapon back. “Why is that?”

“I’m a mercenary. I kill people,” Shamir replied stiffly. She didn’t know where this conversation was going, but she didn’t appreciate being interrupted. “In the heat of battle, one arrow isn’t always enough to put someone down for good.”

“Ah.” She looked at the target. “I supposed that is why you are not being so concerned with hitting the centre? Your arrows are grouped very well, but not always at the…”

“Bullseye,” Shamir supplied.

She smiled. “Yes! Thank you. I hope you do not mind my asking. I am very interested in seeing how others hunt.”

“I’m not a hunter.”

“You have called yourself a sniper before. That is just another kind of hunting, is it not?” Petra asked. “At least in techniques.”

Shamir folded her arms across her chest, inexplicably uneasy. “…You could say that, I suppose.”

“But the downside of hunting people is that you must be seeing their faces,” Petra said. “That must be hard.”

“It’s never been hard for me.”

Petra tilted her head and studied Shamir. A chill ran down her spine, like someone had walked over her grave.

“No,” Petra said slowly. “I am thinking that before, it was never hard for you, is that right?”

Shamir flinched and turned away, drawing another arrow. “Shut up. I’m here to practise.”

“You do not need to practise, Shamir; you did not miss.” Petra’s voice was curiously devoid of accusation, although perhaps that was just because she wasn’t speaking her native language. “You hesitated.”

She tried to ignore Petra, drawing the bow to its fullest – but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to fire and she had to relax the string when her arm started to shake.

“I do not think you need to be feeling ashamed. We have all fought classmates. It… is a hard thing to do, to be hurting your friends.”

“Catherine isn’t my friend,” Shamir snapped. “We’re on opposite sides of a war. That’s all there is to it.”

“If that’s all there was, it would not be so hard.” Petra smiled sadly and Shamir had the uncomfortable feeling of someone twisting her insides. “You _are_ friends. And you are on opposite sides of a war. No one is blaming you for hesitating, Shamir. We all would have done the same.”

_But you thought I wouldn’t. _Shamir knew. That’s why Byleth asked her to go. Because she trusted Shamir not to hesitate.

Shamir didn’t expect to hesitate. She’d expected… maybe not something so dramatic, but a confrontation like this. But then she’d looked down her arrow and saw Catherine’s bright eyes looking back at her, wide and guileless, like she’d been surprised to see Shamir there. Suddenly, Shamir couldn’t help thinking of another time she’d surprised Catherine like that, only Catherine had burst out laughing afterwards—that low, full belly laugh that it had always warmed Shamir to hear.

“You do not need to punish yourself,” Petra continued. “If you go on much longer, you will miss dinner.”

“Catherine hesitated too,” Shamir told her, instead of replying. “That’s why we got away with it.”

By the time Shamir steeled herself, Catherine had already closed the distance, her sword raised—and then she slowed. Stopped, staring at Shamir’s face.

Shamir had scrambled away, and Byleth’s Sword of the Creator had met the fabled Thunderbrand instead. They’d forced Catherine to retreat, which was not as good an outcome as killing her outright but better than losing more soldiers to her pronged sword.

She couldn’t say why she’d been so surprised. She’d known, when she left the Knights to join Emperor Edelgard and Byleth, that Catherine would never leave Rhea’s side for anyone, including Shamir. And Catherine knew that Shamir would never attach herself to a sinking ship for anyone. Not even for her.

“I won’t hesitate again,” Shamir said.

_And neither will she._

“Everyone is being very worried about you,” Petra pressed. “You should eat with us.”

“I suppose,” Shamir said. She looked at the target, incomplete, and paused. The arrows in her quiver seemed to be weighing her down. “I’ll just… finish up here. Then I’ll come join you.”

“I will wait for you, then,” Petra said warmly. “You can help me! I have been teaching the others some of Brigid’s language, but they say it so very badly…”

Shamir snorted. “It’s not that hard, with a little practise.”

“Then you can be showing them the correct way!”

_We both chose a side. That’s all there is to it._

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't played Crimson Flower with a recruited Shamir so I don't know if the two have special dialogue or anything. But they have special dialogue in my heart :(
> 
> All comments welcome!


End file.
